


A Carton of Eggs

by feralbasilthief



Category: Moominvalley (Cartoon 2019), Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson, 楽しいムーミン一家 | Moomin (Anime 1990)
Genre: Drinking Games, Drunken Shenanigans, M/M, One Shot Collection, Snufkin is a lightweight
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:39:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22545673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feralbasilthief/pseuds/feralbasilthief
Summary: An in-progress collection of one-shots for my February challenge month1. Snufkin and Snorkmaiden compete in a drinking game.
Relationships: Mumintrollet | Moomintroll/Snusmumriken | Snufkin
Comments: 2
Kudos: 70





	A Carton of Eggs

**Author's Note:**

> Snufkin and Snorkmaiden compete in a drinking game.
> 
> Just a tiny self-indulgent fic about a group of idiots.

Another gorgeous summer day was winding to a close, but the valley was still bustling with movement. Moominhouse glowed warmly from its lazy perch on the hill. In its contents, a rowdy bunch of creatures, all making a ruckus and enjoying themselves far too much.

Moomin thought it was nice to be back together, their tiny gang assembled once again. Mamma and Pappa went on a nice evening out to camp and left the house all to Moomintroll and his friends.

They all sat in a circle on the floor as Little My skittered around, doling out truths and dares to whoever she saw fit. Moomin was pretty sure that was not how the game went but everyone was enjoying it so what did it really matter? 

“Sniff, you are pathetic. I even dug the worm up myself. Come on!” My goaded the trembling creature, who held his mouth tightly shut. In a frenzy, he released the grip on his muzzle.

“I’m not eating that, no way, no h-”

Speaking was a big mistake because the second Sniff opened his gob, Little My pounced and shoved the wriggling worm in his mouth. Poor Sniff. He spat and gagged and screeched so much you’d think he was poisoned. My had a brilliant time of it all, laughing and kicking her feet on the floor. 

Snorkmaiden paled considerably, shivering at the disgusting display while Snufkin sighed and popped the, luckily still whole, worm inside his pocket for fishing bait. Snork didn’t even look up from the notebook in his lap, seemingly unaware of the fiasco happening right in front of him. 

“Alright, anyone for some honey mead?” Moomin called grandly, waltzing out of the kitchen with a goofy grin and a clear bottle of yellow liquid in one hand. 

“Gimme the bottle,” Little My said nastily, bouncing up to grab the bottle from his paw. 

Moomin pulled it away just in time and she landed back on the floor with a scowl. 

“What gives?” she cried.

“You get cordial.”

“That's not fair, I’m older than you,” she pouted.

“Well, if you didn’t nearly burn the house down-”

“But I didn’t! Besides, I blame you for setting all those dopey candles up,” she grinned sharply but gave up in the fight. Anyhow, she could nab a couple thimbles full when he wasn’t looking.

Moomin skirted around to offer the others some mead. 

Snork was quick to politely decline the offer and Snufkin requested a small glass. Moomin guessed it was to take off the nerves of the party, as he was more quiet and fidgety this evening. He wasn’t even going to ask Sniff.

“What about you, Snorkmaiden? Want any?” he asked in his most charming and polite voice. 

She mulled over the question for a long while, scrunching and unscrunching her snout. 

Finally, she asked, “Do you have any dessert wine?” 

Moomin gave her a puzzled look, surprised. Then again, she was always doing that since they had decided not to be coupled. It was nice and all that she felt she could act more herself in front of him. He just was taken aback by how much he didn’t know before.

“No, but I have gin. It might be a bit strong, though.”

Again, she thought for a moment, just a beat too long, before nodding. 

“Yes, gin would be lovely,” she smiled. 

Moomintroll fumbled with the mead for a moment, settling for putting it on the floor, only for Little My to scurry up and snatch it away. He stole away back into the kitchen.

“Gin, gin,” he called as if he was rousing a beast, “oh, where is that blasted- GIN! Yes!”

He held the bottle up triumphantly, careful not to knock down the shot glasses balanced on top. It was his father’s, saved only for special occasions, but Moomin thought this was a good enough reason to crack the bottle open. They had more in the cellar anyway. 

He walked back out into the living room and plunked down in between Sniff and Snorkmaiden. The shot glasses clinked as he set them down, four in total. He popped the cork and the strong aroma of juniper and alcohol permeated the room. 

As he lifted the bottle to serve Snorkmaiden, Little My stopped him short. 

“How about a game?” she grinned.

Moomin narrowed his eyes, “You aren’t drinking Pappa’s good gin.”

“Not me,” My cackled, “Snorkmaiden and Snufkin.”

“No, no drinking competitions,” Moomin declared sternly, untrusting of the devilish glint in his adopted sister’s eyes.

“Oh, but that’d be fun!” Snorkmaiden piped up, “Haven’t done that in ages. What do you say Snufkin?”

The Mumrik leaned forward upon hearing his name.

“What did you say?”

“A drinking game! We just take shots and the first one to tap out loses,” she smiled. 

Snufkin thought a moment before nodding and scooting closer to Moomin to grab a glass. 

Now a bit too late to say no, Moomin grunted and slid Snorkmaiden one of the other glasses, staring down Little My the entire time.

Snork shot Snorkmaiden a warning look, which she purposely ignored. 

“Alright, let’s go!” My cheered.

Moomin poured the first shots, clear liquid filling the cup. Snufkin studied his glass, running his finger around the rim. He was procrastinating, suddenly feeling very unsure and on display.

Snorkmaiden, on the other hand, scooped up the tiny glass and downed the shot in one quick gulp. She quickly made a show of asking for a second, which she drank just as fast.

Now Snufkin was staring with wide eyes, knowing he had to do something. He was already two down, which Little My wickedly took tally of on a scrap of paper she had found in the bin. She wielded her red marker like a baton. 

Snufkin’s gaze leapt between his glass and Snorkmaiden, who was already requesting another shot, though Moomin was kindly slow at pouring it. And with his decision made, he lifted the drink to his lips and took the tiniest sip.

He sputtered as soon as the liquid hit his lips, being nothing at all like his meads and ciders he was so accustomed to. Little My cackled wildly at his repulsion, only pushing him further. He wouldn’t be beaten out this easily. He plugged his nose with one hand and with the other, poured the drink down his gullet. 

The lack of smell did nothing to quell the burning in his throat as he gulped against the stench. He coughed roughly, huffing out his relief, only to see Snorkmaiden was yet again taking another shot.

“You don’t have to do this, Snuf.” Moomin offered gently, giving him a soft smile.

Oh but that only meant he had all the more reason to try. Even worse than the goading and the attention was Moomin’s kind and caring nature, letting him off the hook so easily that he needn’t do anything at all. His defiant nature was more than happy to take that as a challenge. Besides, the alcohol was quickly going straight to his head, making him feel much too warm. He could feel his cheeks burning hot red against his will. 

“Another, Moomin,” he said, gruffer than he was meaning. He held out his glass for a second shot. 

As soon as his was poured, Snorkmaiden’s hand zapped back out with a fervid cry of, “Moomintroll!”

As her glass was refilled, he sniffed the second shot with distaste. Down went Snorkmaiden’s fourth as he brought the shot up. Her fifth was poured as he tossed his second back. She finished that one off as Snufkin reeled from the potent flavour of alcohol. 

“Slow down,” the Snork whisper-shouted to his sister, to which she argued that she wasn’t even going to get tipsy from how little she had. 

_ How little? _ Snufkin faltered at the thought, already feeling like his head was buzzing with bees. She must be lying, or at least it hadn’t hit her yet. As he mused, she drank a sixth and seventh. He didn’t notice how long he had been sitting there but a wave of dizzying drunkenness hit him like a slap to the face. He blinked and suddenly noticed his glass was full again. Odd since he never saw Moomin refill it. 

He tipped back his third glass without even thinking about it until the taste jolted him back with a heave. He held up his glass for more, his arms feeling like jellyfish tentacles, wobbly and electrified. He couldn’t be bothered. In fact, he thought it was quite funny. 

He sat with cup in paw for a while longer, not sure if he was dozing or in a daydream.

“Are you okay?” Moomin asked, concerned. 

Snufkin couldn’t see what he was so worried about, he was feeling rather fantastic. The good feeling turned sour and jealous as he looked at the scores. He couldn’t really read the totals because the room around him was blurry and kept moving, but he could tell Snorkmaiden was in the lead. 

With that determination, he downed his next glass. He hiccuped and felt the rancid taste of that morning’s food race up his throat. 

Moomin was holding onto him now, warm fur making him sweat. Not that he minded. Moomin was so caring, cooing something lovely into his ear as he struggled to stay upright. 

He face-planted straight into the troll's fuzzy lap, sighing contently into him. He felt like he was having the most wonderful dream.

“Luffly Muffmin. My luffy Muffmiff,” he slurred, speaking into Moomin’s thigh. 

“What was that, Snufkin?” his sweet and devout troll asked him. 

He lifted his head up, almost tipping backwards. He caught himself by wrapping an arm around Moomin’s shoulder for support.

“Ohhh Moooominnntrolll~,” he purred with heady breath, “Handsome, handsome Moominnn.”

He raised his glass in a cheer, which My took the opportunity to return. She had a wide smile that made him wonder vaguely what mischief she had caused. 

“You’re drunk,” Moomin replied flatly. 

Oh if only he knew how much Snufkin wanted to slather that snout of his with kisses. He thought maybe he should try, but his paws couldn’t quite find Moomin’s face and dropped back down in disappointment.

“Mmm, lovely Moomin. How are you so lovely?” he asked, nuzzling into his shoulder. 

Moomin just sighed, carding fingers through his hair in a way that pulled a purr somewhere from in Snufkin’s chest. 

“My love,” he muttered and then promptly threw up in the troll’s lap. 

Moomin jumped up in surprise, Snufkin narrowly missing falling face first in his own puke. 

He tried to gather the incoherent Mumrik in his arms but his squirming made it difficult to get him up. 

“I’ll carry him,” Snorkmaiden sighed, easily collecting her wriggling friend, “poor thing should have never tried to compete with me.”

She snorted, breaking out into a wheezing laugh. She must’ve forgotten she had been the one to start the game in the first place. Snufkin, only now realizing her presence, reached up to tap her snout lightly. 

“Another drink, Lady Diana,” he giggled. 

She quirked an eyebrow, “I think you may have had enough.”

Snufkin pouted but said no more, simply sinking into a heavy slumber. Snorkmaiden placed him on the guest bed gently before trotting back downstairs to get him a glass of water, while Moomin fretted over cleaning the vomit and drool, first from Snufkin and then from himself.

“I thought I was the idiot,” he sighed, rubbing circles over Snufkin’s back, “Guess we are both a little daft.”

Snufkin mumbled unintelligibly in his sleep, turning to once again snuggle close to the troll.

“He’s kinda cute like that,” Snorkmaiden interrupted him, setting a water cup on the nightstand, “Be less cute in the morning though, I can tell you that.”

Moomin let out a chuckle. She was right and he prayed for Snufkin’s sake that Little My wouldn’t tease him too harshly over it. 

That, however, would be a problem for later. Right then, Moomin could sit on the edge of the bed, wondering how long it would take for Snufkin to so openly love him without the taste of gin.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed! Bonus points goes to whoever gets my literary reference.
> 
> feralbasilthief.tumblr.com


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